Don't Scream
by mammamiaitsthalia
Summary: EDITING RIGHT NOW. WILL FINISH SOON! Megara Malfoy is the forgotten niece of the infamous Draco Malfoy, living in America. She has never attended any magical school, instead practicing her magic in secret; until an unexpected change of heart sends her to Hogwarts. Stalked by a nameless man, Meg must protect the people she loves and become the witch she was destined to be.
1. ATTN AN PLEASE READ

Hey everyone! You may have noticed that the chapters have been deleted from this story. This is _only_ because I am rewriting parts of it and will be posting EVERY TWO WEEKS, and sooner if I edit fast! So this story will all be back up AND finished! Thank you all so much for your patience!


	2. Prologue

PROLOGUE

I STARE at the letter again. Then back to my mom. Then, the letter. I'd spent my entire life avoiding this stupid school, and here she is, waving the crimson emblem in my face.

Hogwarts.

Save me the bitter arguments. I already know what you'd say; how _dare_ I? I'm perfectly aware that Hogwarts is a great school and I could learn to be be a wonderful witch or _whatever_ , but I've lived my entire life without it and I'm not too keen on changing it now. Not to mention, my last name is probably enough to get me kicked out on the first day-Malfoy. That's right; I am _the_ Draco Malfoy's niece, to a sister he never knew he had. Not until I turned eleven, at least, and he tried his hardest to get me into Hogwarts out of his own guilt.

It was only one of the many reasons I didn't want to go. It pained my mom to talk about, and we didn't really have any more pain to spare these days. For the past three years, she'd been stalking around like a zombie; not really living, but not committed to the world of the dead either. She was hardly a mother anymore. Not that she ever was much of one; being married to a wizard and descended from a line of Pureblood wizards without being one herself broke her down at a young age. Her parents had always suspected she didn't have any magical abilities within her and hid her away in a basement. Obviously, their fears were confirmed when she finally turned eleven. Mom never got into Hogwarts. She wasn't a witch. That's the reason her parents-my dead grandparents-sent her away. So don't blame me if I'm _not_ super keen on going.

Until this letter, sent on my sixteenth birthday, arrived. It wasn't any different from the other letters they sent me over the years; the thing that changed was my mom's response.

"I want you to go," she insists again, calmly sipping her tea. I nearly choked on my Captain Crunch.

"You're kidding," I repeat for the fourth time, confused and a little worried about her mental health. "I'm not going, Mom."

"Elenora goes," Mom continues, going on and pouring my sister's cereal like nothing was off or different. I blink a few times, trying to figure out whether this is actual reality. As far as I could tell, it was.

"You don't even get along with Elle," I hiss back, glancing over to my fourteen year old sister, who doesn't even flinch underneath her beanie. "She only goes because Dad wanted her to before he died." Mom flinched; we don't talk about my dad much around here. It's a pretty taboo subject. My dad, Brannon, was a wizard and we inherited it from him. We never took his last name though, because my parents never married. I'm not even sure I know his last name, to be honest.

"Megara," Mother warns with a harsh tone, "Anastasia has decided to attend also." I felt the rolling of my eyes without even realizing it. Anastasia was our youngest sister; I was the oldest at sixteen, then came Elle at fourteen, and then our little baby Ana at eleven. Of course she would get a letter this year; eleven is the age you start going. It's also not a surprise that she wants to go-she's such a bright spirit and has _always_ been obsessed with magic.

"That doesn't determine what I do, Mother," I spit out nastily, feeling my annoyance heighten by the second. "I haven't attended all this time and yet now you want me to? Who _are_ you?"

"Anastasia is going," she repeats sternly. I know she doesn't have a good argument, that she isn't making sense, but something in her voice warns me to back off and something in me knows I have to. I am angry, extremely so, but underneath all the angst I'm afraid. I shove the bowl of cereal in my hands angrily away from me and stomp to my room, slamming the door behind me. I know she'll come in later and apologize; she would never make me go.

Except when I wake up the next Monday, all of my bags are packed and my sisters are waiting for me at the door. My mom says nothing, and won't even look me in the eyes.

It wasn't until then that I knew she was serious.

I had a feeling it was going to be a long year.


	3. Chapter One

A/N Thank you for everyone who is still reading and being so patient with me. I know next gen fics aren't super popular, but I really have just fallen in love with this story and with writing again. If I could make anyone else feel that way, then I have to take the chance. For all of the authors who have done that for me (:

"So, welcome to England," Elle announces loudly the minute we step off of the airplane. Ana bounces around excitedly, pointing out all of the places that she was convinced to be "hidden" with magic. Elle readily agrees, but I have to fight back the urge to sneer and scoff at the notion. I don't see whatever it is that they see; and I am _not_ excited to leave for Hogwarts later. I got a call from the Headmaster-McGonagall, or something? She told me that while I have not attended Hogwarts previously, I will still be attending all of the sixth year classes. I will have tutors assigned to me to teach me the basic stuff learned in years one-five. Translation: I will be the most bullied student at this fancy-pants magic school.

"I want to be in Gryffindor," Ana proudly proclaims, pointing to a random red banister near the wall. Elle grunts and pretends to vomit all over the banister. She whips around quickly, fierce determination burning in her hazel eyes, surprising both Ana and me.

"No, you don't," she hisses, fiery emotion heating up her face. "Gryffindors are a bunch of idiotic, intolerant prudes-and you don't want to be _anything_ like them, I promise." Elle is a Slytherin, but I'm not entirely sure what that means. I know they were green, and Ana told me once that everybody hates them. As much as they tried to help me, I didn't understand. I knew the names of the other houses, but I doubt I'd ever understand what they mean.

"They probably won't put me anywhere," I cut in, to break the certain fight waiting to happen, "I fit into my own special category."

Ana and Elle exchange a look and say, "Slytherin." I raise an eyebrow in response but just continue to follow their lead. I'm not sure if I should be offended or not, but knowing them, the answer was probably yes.

Elle takes a sudden turn into a readily concealed hallway, and I have to retrace my steps to keep up. As soon as I do, I realize the room-if you can even call it that-is very cramped and the three of us barely fit together. It consists of three walls around us; but how in the world did the wall close in _behind_ me?! In front of us is a huge black door, looking old and completely out of place in this tiny hall-room- _thing_. Elle looks back and sends us a wink before whispering, "Diagon Alley." Instantly, the door rumbles and shakes, green lights encompassing it and dancing around the walls of the room. I shrivel away,afraid, but at the same time getting some mad Disney's Haunted Mansion vibes. The door suddenly flings itself open away from us, and Elle nonchalantly walks out into the cobbled streets beyond us. Ana and I share a puzzled look for a few seconds before she snatches my hand and scrambles to catch up with Elle, pulling me along. When we reach her, she guides us first into a bookshop, a checklist seemingly appearing from the wind itself wildly appearing into her hands. It has all three of our names and school years listed on it, and Elle immediately goes to work with it.

We probably end up spending more than an hour just getting all of our books together.

"Flesh-Eating Trees of the World?" I hiss, very judgingly, after pulling out the strangest looking book in my bag, "What the hell? I don't want to go here."

"You're judging before you're even there," Elle groans, annoyed. I can tell by the look on her face that she didn't appreciate my choice of words and remind myself to be more appropriate here. She hands me another shopping bag full of robes, all of them black. I groan. "They'll give you all your house colored stuff at school; and you can buy more there, too."

"Doubtful," I whisper to myself, not wanting to enrage her any further. " _Very_ doubtful."

We rush to our last store, and both Ana and Elle stop and stare in awe. Elle whips out her wand, a silvery thing, completely straight and admittedly beautiful. You know-for a _stick_. Ana squeals in excitement and the pair run in without me. I glance up at the sign: OLLIVANDERS. I don't get it, again, but I walk in and rush to my sisters' anyway.

They're talking to an older man, who seems friendly and engages with them eagerly. He looks over to me and his face falls in complete wonder. My breath hitches, and I get the strange feeling that he knows me somehow.

"My goodness," he breathes, studying me in awe. Uncomfortably, I cross my arms over my chest and try not to meet his gaze, but it's hard when he looks so intently at me, "You look just like your father. Prettier, obviously, but much like him nonetheless."

"You knew our father?" Elle asks, clearly comfortable with this dude.

"Oh yes-very well," he answers, smiling at her. He seems conflicted about something, but it quickly washes away. "So, we must be getting them both a wand; correct?"

"Sure seems that way," I groan, pushing my black curls behind an ear, "So where do I start? Where's the wands for sixth years, or whatever?" All three of them look at me, incredulous, and then immediately start laughing hysterically. "What?" I ask frantically, extremely embarrassed. I repeat the word a few times until finally, Ana turns to me.

"That's not how it works, Meg!" She explains, still humored, "The wand chooses you-and it's yours forever." I stare at all three of them, incredulously, and then finally shake my head. It all sounded way too fantastical to be even remotely accurate.

"Okay, this magic crap is officially creeping me out; you go first, Ana," I beg, leaning against the wall near the door. The weight of my new life finally begins to hit; there is no way, absolutely _no way_ , I will finish out this year. In terms of magical knowledge, I am the equivalent of a two-year old.

A hand rests gently on my shoulder as a voice says, "You know, when I first came here, I had no idea what was going on either." Instantly I jump away and turn to my right to see an older man, probably in his late thirties, smiling at me. He has dark hair, barely lighter than mine, with circle-framed glasses and a kind smile.

"I'm assuming you were eleven?" I inquire sassily, with a smirk. " _Not_ sixteen."

"You're American," he says instead, puzzlingly.

"Well I don't sound like you-so, yeah," I shrug, folding my arms against my chest once more and turning forward to signal the end of the conversation. Unfortunately, this guy doesn't seem to get the hint. Or just doesn't care.

"You've got some fire in you," he laughs, enraptured by me, "I knew girls much like you during my time at Hogwarts."

"Again, _very_ doubtful," I challenge, looking this man straight in the eye. "Listen, it doesn't exactly take a genius to see that I really don't want to be here. So, I guess, any tips you got, I could probably use." He smiles at me kindly once more and turns his gaze to my sisters.

"You're related to Elenora Malfoy, yes?" He asks, gesturing to my swan of a sister.

"She's my younger sister," I answer, watching her encourage Ana as she flicks and swishes a lanky brown stick.

"My daughter, Lily, and Elenora are the same age," he explains, nodding along as Ana rejoices over a different stick. "But they don't get on very well. Opposing houses."

"Yeah, I've been told that's a thing," I yawn out, ready to get on with this and go home. "Well, since you seem to know who I am-who are you, exactly?"

He laughs again, "I figured you knew already." I look up at him, confused, and shake my head. "I'm Harry Potter." My blood runs a little cold; I may not know much about magic, but I know who Harry Potter is. You have to be living in a hole to not at least know _that_.

"I've heard of you-surprisingly," I joke, and he laughs again. "I don't know much about this world, but I do know the Golden Trio."

"You didn't grow up in a home of magic, did you?" He quieres, studying me. I don't say anything and he continues with, "Neither did I; but you came onboard much later than me. May I ask why?"

"My mom wasn't a witch and her family cast her out; she didn't want any of us to go. I chose her side, and my sister's took my Dad's because he died. Well, not Ana. She actually wants to be here; but anyway, for some odd reason, Mom wanted me to come this year," I finish, annoyed with myself for revealing anything at all, let alone ranting to the man who saved the world.

"And this is weird?" Harry asks, looking a little concerned.

"Extremely," I answer, just the same time as the shop-owner calls out my name. "Well, guess that's me."

"I'd love to help, if you'd let me," Harry jumps in, walking me to the counter. "My youngest just got his wand a few minutes ago, and now they're out comparing."

"I would greatly appreciate the help," I reply honestly, gracing him with a small smile. He graces me with one also and together we brave the counter. Ana and Elle both gape and gasp at him, shooting me confused looks.

"Mr. Potter," the shop-owner greets with a sneakish smile, "Nice to see you back again."

"It's nice to see you too-five minutes ago was too long, apparently," Harry jokes with him. The shop-owner laughs and then quickly turns back to me.

"I have a few ideas for you, young lady," he declares, excited.

"What about Hermione's design?" Harry interjects. Both my sister's gasp and Ana grips my hand a little too tightly in excitement as I stand there, confused.

"That was my first option," the shop-owner winks and pulls out a box from under his desk. "I could sense the brilliance in you." I feel a tiny bit flattered, but mostly still confused. Before I can ask any questions, he pulls the wand out from the box and delicately places it into my hands. Elle helps me situate it properly, and as soon as I have it, I feel an immense rush all throughout my body. My arms tingle and my insides feel as if they've come alive. My hair blows away from my face perfectly, even though there is no wind. Suddenly, everything feels so...in place.

"Whoa," I manage to breathe out, staring at the wand in my hands. It's a plain brown, twisty thing. It is its own kind of beautiful. I gape back up at the man across the counter. "How did you do that?"

"He didn't," Harry insists, " _You_ did that. Clearly, the wand is meant for you." I can't argue with him, staring down at the wand. I'd never felt so _right_.

"I don't know what to do with it," I admit, ashamed for the first time since leaving America.

"You'll learn," Elle insists, giddy at the sight of me holding a wand, "And quickly, if you're fit to bear Hermione's wand."

"This is really just like hers?" I ask, suddenly feeling hopeful and quickly squandering it. What has come _over_ me?

"It's the actual twin sister to hers," the Shop-owner smiles proudly, "No one has been worthy of it until you came along."

"Megara Vivian Malfoy," Elle laughs incredulously. "Who would have guessed?" I sneer at the use of my full name.

"Meg," Ana corrects, as if reading my thoughts. She looks over and winks at me before taking my hand again.

The girls set off to leave, but I turn back around to Harry once more. "Thank you," I respond earnestly, giving him another smile. He nods back at me and I take off after my sisters, headed for the train that's supposed to take us to Hogwarts.

It takes us about ten minutes to get to the actual station and I can't help but stare at all of the people around us.

"All of these people are witches and wizards?" I ask, incredulous. Elle laughs once more and steers us to the right.

"No-just some," She explains, "You'll see all the witches and wizards on 9 ¾."

"'I'm sorry- _where_?" I laugh, amused and confused. "That's not a thing, Elle." She shoots a glare back at me and saunters over to a column haughtily-where she proceeds to run _into the freaking wall and disappear_! I shriek in surprise and instinctively throw an arm in front of Ana, as if something were going to come out of the wall and take her.

"It's okay, Meggie," Ana comforts, lowering my arm and taking my hand, with her bags in her other. "We can do it together." I look at her like she's insane, but then she's running so _I'm_ running, and when I'm sure we're going to knock ourselves out, we're in a completely different place.

"Holy sh-"

"Isn't it glorious?" Elle asks, excitement buzzing off of her. I can't help but laugh at her energy and hop along with my sisters to a train entrance, where so many other people are waiting along with us-all of them donning black robes. I can't be excited about myself going, but I can be excited that my sisters' are. That, I can live with.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn around to meet a really tall, blonde-haired, middle aged man. Immediately, his eyes widen as he looks me straight in the face, giving me a look that made me a little bit nervous and altogether confused. Even though I know who he is, I am certain we've never met; but he sure seems to recognize me. There's a strange familiarity in his eyes, and I can't help but feel unnerved.

If I didn't have some sort of idea who he was already, I wouldn't even know he was middle aged. He looked in his mid-twenties at the latest. Elle whips around, putting an end to our awkward staredown, and gives him a tight-lipped smile; it's her signature 'I have to be nice but really don't care to' look. I'm on edge until she calmly says, "Good afternoon, Uncle." So, I was right. This was _the_ Draco Malfoy. My one and only uncle, Draco Malfoy. Quite interesting indeed.

"Draco," I coolly acknowledge, giving him the once-over, "So I assume you're glad to see me finally here." It came out nicer than I expected; which was disappointing because I had all intentions to be rude.

I don't owe this person anything.

His stoic demeanor falters, but he brushes it off quickly. "I am glad you decided to come, Megara. I think you'll benefit immensely." I only manage an eyebrow raise and Ana, being the adorable little angel that she is, decides to attempt to revive this conversation.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she beams, rushing to Draco and wrapping her tiny eleven-year old arms around him like she's known him for years. "Is Scorpius coming this year?! He's eleven like me-right?"

"That's right," Draco smiles at her, a look of shock and slight embarrassment tinging his cheeks. "He's over conversing with the other kids." I want to ask if Scorpius is his son, but I don't. That would be admitting that I really didn't know that much about him after all.

"Draco," Harry's familiar voice floats over to us, as he puts a reassuring hand on my Uncle's shoulder. "It's good to see you, after so long a time."

"Same to you, Potter," Draco tenses and then tries a grin that comes out more like a grimace. Before I can chime in with a sarcastic comment, two younger kids rush to Harry's side and he pulls them in towards us.

"Oh, good!" Harry bellows, positioning the boy and girl in front of him. "Girls, this is my youngest; Albus. This is his first year at Hogwarts too." Albus grins from ear-to-ear until the red-headed girl pushes her way in front of him and instantly fixates a glare on Elle. I have a feeling I know who _she_ is, too. "And this is Lily! Elenora, I'm sure you've-"

"We've met," Elle finishes harshly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. I gape at her for a few seconds, surprised at her behavior.

"Elle!" I chastise, shocked. Did she suddenly forget how to speak to adults? Especially _Harry Potter_ of all adults?

Draco and Harry instantly laugh and share a knowing look.

"Never changes-does it, Potter?" Draco asks, still laughing. It was the first time I'd seen him genuinely smile since we'd met. Harry nods in agreement, smiling back, and whistles at someone else to beckon them over too. A tall, beautiful red-headed woman walks over to him and he snakes an arm around her lovingly. It's such an unfamiliar and sweet form of affection, I have to look away.

"She-Weasel," Draco greets jokingly, shaking her hand. Harry's wife scoffs, but smiles back at him anyways. Elle yips in shock and shares an disbelieving glance with Ana. I, however, have literally no idea what's going on so I just awkwardly grimace. It was supposed to be a smile...but it's a grimace. Definitely a grimace.

"This is my wife, Ginny," Harry introduces to me, because obviously I'm the only one here who doesn't know. "Almost our whole family is here; James seems to have disappeared. Again."

"He's our oldest," Ginny smiles at me, and I pull down the sleeve of my shirt uncomfortably. "You know, he's your age; I bet you could even be friends!" I can feel my nose scrunch up in disgust, but I can't help it. Somehow, I can't really see that happening. Malfoy's and Potter's have a long history of not getting along. Exhibit A: Elenora Malfoy and Lily Potter. Plus, I don't need anybody making friends for me; especially not adult women I've just met.

"Maybe," Ana answers for me with a warning glance, clearly knowing I'll either avoid this topic or answer rudely . "But I don't really care if she has friends; I just want her to have another boyfriend." Elle chokes back a laugh unsuccessfully and I crack my neck whipping my head to gawk at my youngest sister.

"A-another?" Draco stutters, shocked. My face feels suddenly hot and I have a sneaking suspicion I look like a tomato.

"I've had one serious boyfriend," I glare at Ana, "she makes me sound like a slut."

"What?" Lily asks, confused.

"A slag," Elle explains boredly, as if Lily was an annoying little child. She hisses at Elle and I take that time to change the subject with a clear of my throat.

"Well, people are boarding I think, so we need to go," I excuse. I really need out of this conversation. Like, _insanely_ bad. The Potter's exchange friendly goodbyes and walk away from us to attend to their children, no doubt ecstatic to see their youngest off. Draco fetches his son, Scorpius, who seems to be a rather shy little thing. He's also the spitting image of his father.

"Well, ladies, it was nice to meet you," Draco acknowledges. "And to see you again, Elenora." He gives us one last look, squeezes my hand, and then walks away with Scorpius in tow.

"Where is his wife?" Ana questions innocently, and Elle and I share a look. This is a piece of the puzzle that I actually _did_ know.

"She passed away," I answer, a hint of sadness gracing my tone. "A few years after Scorpius was born." Ana purses her lips and drops the subject, thankfully. Her eyes are focused on the ground and I know she's lost in thought. She is known to be overly empathetic; the poor thing.

"Let's get on," Elle insists, pushing us both on board. She directs us to a certain part of the train and I barely have time to notice anything at all. Ana begs to sit by the window, so I let her, and slide in beside my youngest sister. Elle chooses the bench across from us and frantically looks out the door, obviously searching for someone pretty diligently. They announce that the train will be leaving shortly when Elle suddenly squeals and runs out of our section.

"Where did she go-" I stop my sentence midway when I realize Ana has already fallen asleep, weary from the long day of traveling and shopping. A hint of a smile curves my lips and I pull her head onto my lap. A few seconds later, Elle drags in a blonde girl, wearing her robes with yellow symbols and scarves underneath. I know she must be sporting a house, but I couldn't tell you which one. All I know is Slytherin is green. Thanks to Elle.

"Hi!" The bubbly girl greets us, stirring Ana back awake with a groan. "I'm Bree; Elle is my best friend!" Wow, okay. Straightforward and crazily energetic. I was struggling to see how this was Elle's type of friend.

"Bree, hi," I reply anyway, because I'm sure it's important to Elle, "I'm Meg, Elle's older sister."

"Oh, I know that silly!" she answers excitedly. "You're right Elle; she's a Slytherin." I allow myself to blink a few extra times, trying to determine if this was real or a really weird nightmare.

"What, um, are you exactly?" I ask, hoping she won't give me the look I've been receiving all day for not knowing. She doesn't; Bree simply smiles at me and takes her seat next to Elle as the train gets going. Kindness was certainly something for the plus column, at least.

"Hufflepuff!" She exclaims proudly, flashing me her bright yellow shirt, "We're the house that values hard work, dedication, and patience. Our motto is, 'Do What is Nice.'"

"Oh," I reply as kindly as I can. "That's very...nice." I notice Ana has fallen asleep against my shoulder again and I lovingly stroke her hair. Mostly because Elle and Bree have started to ignore me and start a conversation about people and things that I know nothing about.

After a short while, a trolley comes to our compartment selling candy. Magically, Ana wakes up right then and begs me for all the chocolate. I swear, she has a stomach reserved especially for sweets. I give in and buy her some, as well as the other two girls, and then excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I'm a little tired of hearing about the selection of hot Quidditch players and the feel of Ana's head weighing down my shoulder. I need a break.

I step out of our car and realize I forgot to ask Elle where to go. When I turn back around, I notice that she seems engrossed in a conversation and I decide I can figure it out myself. I decide to move down the trolley, because for some reason, that seems like the better idea. Airplanes have _their_ bathrooms at the very back.

Teenagers clad in all different colored robes stare at me suspiciously from their windows, probably wondering who I am. My stomach sinks; my original plan was just to blend in and no one would even realize I was starting from the beginning at sixteen. The Sorting thing is private- _right_? Now I'm making myself worried and anxious, something I really can't afford to-

"Eek!" I shriek spastically as someone's elbows hit right into my side, knocking me into the glass doors on my left. The students behind them jump, wide-eyed, and I wince at my own embarrassment. I rub my shoulder and whip my head viciously to my right-only to find probably the most attractive human being I have ever met. Even hotter than my naturally blonde ex-boyfriend back at home, which is saying a _lot_. Still, I say, "Watch where you're going, dude." Because boys do not _phase_ Megara Malfoy. Not anymore.

"Terribly sorry," he winks at me and looks me over, prompting a famous Malfoy eye roll. "Nice accent."

"I could say the same to you," I point out, crossing my arms over my chest self consciously.

"I suppose so," he concedes, watching me intently. I couldn't read him-and that scared me. "You're from America?"

"Is it that obvious?" I retort sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I'm American."

"I would have remembered an American attending Hogwarts," He reasons, confused. "Other than that wretched Malfoy my sister hates; but you're clearly not her, so why don't I know you?" I wince at the comment about Elle, but decide to keep my familial attachments secret for the time being.

"Your sister is Lily, then?" I ask instead. "Those two hate each other."

"So you're familiar with the Slytherin?" He asks.

"I asked you first," I demand, trying not to let my guard down just yet. He extends his hand and I take it amusingly as he introduces himself. I hadn't shaken hands with someone my own age, well, _ever_.

"James Potter; sixth year and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain." He throws the last bit in with a brilliant smile and I scoff. I find myself also resisting the urge to vomit in my mouth. Jocks were the _worst_ kind of male.

"Figures," I smirk, "Every Potter is a Gryffindor, aren't they?"

"And where do you belong?" James questions, lifting back the side of my robe and examining my white clothes underneath with a frown. "You aren't wearing any House colors; how did I miss you all these years? What year _are_ you?" He asks, like I might just be a well developed eleven year old. I don't hold back a laugh.

"Sixth; like you," I shrug. "I guess you just don't pay good enough attention, Potter."

"I'm certainly paying attention now," he responds with a smirk and a teasing glint in his eye that makes my stomach grow butterflies. "What's your name?" James pushes further.

"It's Meg," I answer, smiling back at the attractive boy, "But that's all you get." I turn and begin to walk back to my car. The butterflies were my warning sign; I could _not_ get attached. Not if I wanted to be kicked out of here soon.

"I'm going to figure you out!" James calls after me. I smile and throw him a backwards wave; which, for all I know, could be flipping him off in some weird British slang thing. I think over my weird encounter for a split second with the eldest Potter child before re-entering my car, all thoughts of a bathroom completely lost.

"That was fast," Elle comments, looking me over suspiciously. I never was good at getting away with things if she saw me within forty-eight hours after they happened. She was too perceptive.

"Oh yeah," I blush, mentally berating my face for its unnecessary action, "I kind of got run over and now I don't really have to pee."

"I sense this story lacking its plot," Elle observes, throwing an auspicious wink at my Ana, suddenly wide awake. I avoid all three curious gazes and shrug indifferently.

"I was walking to find the bathrooms," I explain, "and James Potter knocked me over." I shrug like it's nothing-because, you know, it _is_. "In the hall. He hit me into a sliding glass door." I've rambled a little and I know it. That's my tell. When I look up, I notice Elle and Bree share a look and I can tell that it's not a good one. "What am I missing?" I ask, just as Bree leans forward and clasps her hands; I suddenly have the feeling we're going to have a 'Come to Jesus' talk.

"James Potter is attractive," she starts out, very businesslike.

"SUPER hot," Elle interrupts, fanning herself for effect. I roll my eyes and shrug their comments off.

"Yes," Bree continues, playfully sticking her tongue out at my sister, "He is very hot. But, he's also quite the heartbreaker. No girl can tie him down; he loves them and leaves them. Except he maybe never actually loves them. He dated a girl for a few months last year, and when they broke up, she actually _left school_ she was so distraught. Story is, they went to an infamous Ravenclaw party, drank some firewhiskey, and next thing you know he was snogging some slag from his own House!" Elle nods in agreement and they both look exactly how I feel-disgusted.

"That's hardly the greatest reason to drop out of school," I mumble.

"The _point_ is-just don't go there," Elle cautions, glaring at a student passing by our car. I double take slightly, wondering who this student was or if it was just Elle's aesthetic to glare at passersby.

"Listen, girls-fourteen year old girls who hopefully have never dated-I'm not _planning_ on going anywhere near him. I don't want to be involved with anyone here. I just want to get through this year," I reply honestly, resting my head on the seat. Ana takes my hand in comfort before going back to her mountain of chocolate. I wipe excess chocolate off of her face with my robes and turn to Elle and Bree. "I'm going to sleep."

"No time," Elle argues, standing up and re-adjusting her Slytherin tie, "We're here!" Bree squeals excitedly and leads me to the window, pointing at the pitchblack night outside of us. And there it was, in a perfectly aesthetic spot right in the middle of the night, was the Hogwarts Castle. Glowing in front of my eyes. For a few seconds, it really looks like it's floating; then I see the ground underneath it, a vibrant green despite the dark of the night. The train abruptly comes to a stop several feet away from the castle and the butterflies-screw that, _chainsaws_ -in my stomach become very prominent.

"First years off first," A scary-looking, tall and bearded man bellows in from the door. Ana suddenly looks sick and begins to whimper.

"I don't want to go alone," she begs, turning her chocolate doe eyes on me. Instantly, I melt. My sisters had that power over me, and they certainly used it.

"I'll bring you," I quickly offer, holding out my hand. "I'm kind of a first year too, anyway." Elle smiles approvingly and drags Bree out into the hall, where tiny little kids are scrambling for the front door. Ana takes my hand and I lead her to the door, pushing through eager and scared little kids. As nervous as Ana claimed to be, I would bet I was a million times worse; however, I knew I had to be the tough one for her. I had to be the big sister.

There are older people staring at me oddly as I join the first years, exchanging looks and whispers. I hold my breath and just push my way farther to the front. I pray the professors recognize me and no one asks any questions. I certainly didn't want any scenes.

The large bearded man takes in the sight of my sister and I, looking quite confused. My stomach sinks, but he shakes his head and gestures us off the train anyway. James Potter, amongst other older kids, are somehow already standing outside. James looks at me strangely, perplexed, when I step off the train holding Ana's hand. He raises an eyebrow in question and I simply smirk with faux confidence. His eyes sparkle in humor as he continues to stare, no doubt trying to "figure me out".

"I'm sorry ma'am," the scary guy finally addresses me, pulling on his beard, "I've a hard time believing you're a first year." I open my mouth to protest, but a certain annoying Gryffindor decides he should butt in before I can form any sensible words.

"Ah, go easy on her Hagrid," James jumps to my defense, leaving his friends and coming over to stand with me. "She's a little, well, _odd_."

"On the contrary, I am perfectly sane, thank you," I hiss back to James, annoyed at his tenacity. "I came up here with my sister-she's a bit scared," I plead with Hagrid, stroking Ana's hair much like a mother. "As for my situation-"

"Megara Malfoy," a familiar, aged voice calls out. An older lady with glasses and a stereotypical witch's hat approaches me, a smile on her face. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought she was a queen with the sheer regality she used to hold herself. "I'm Headmistress McGonagall-please, come with me." I wince with indecision, noticing that Ana is the only first year who hasn't gathered around the giant Hagrid man.

"With all due respect Headmistress, I do usually listen to figures of, um, authority, but my little sister-"

"I'll take care of her," James quickly chimes in, taking Ana's other hand. Suspicious of his intentions, I burn a penetrating stare into James's skull. He must feel my gaze because he looks me straight in the eyes and smiles comfortingly. "I'll make sure she's okay to go." I look at McGonagall, and then shoot another skeptical glare at James.

"If _anything_ happens to her, I promise I'll kill you slowly and painfully," I threaten, but James just laughs. Which, naturally, only enrages me further.

"Don't worry-she'll be fine," He assures me, as Ana lets go of my hand and clutches onto James. I feel almost betrayed. "You go on- _Malfoy_ ," he winks, but looks a little bit shocked and, dare I say it, disappointed.

"You be careful," I caution Ana, "remember the places to hurt a man the most?" Ana nods as her cheeks flare in embarrassment and James's face blanches. I smirk knowingly at the boy, who begins talking to Ana about her favorite things. I have a feeling she's in good hands.

Hurrying up to catch up with McGonagall, I have to catch my breath several times. For a lady who looks well into her nineties, she can keep a pretty good pace. I'm even kind of having a tough time keeping up.

She leads me down some old hallways and trippy staircases. I know I must be _really_ tired, because at one point, I swear I see one _moving_ -changing direction even! I shake my head lethargically, feeling a headache coming on in the near future. Finally, McGonagall leads me down another hallway before entering an elaborate office.

"Whoa," I comment, taking stock of the millions of books surrounding her desk. "This is sort of hardcore."

"Yes, sort of," McGonagall agrees with a laugh. She takes a seat behind her desk and gestures for me to sit in one of the two chairs in front of hers. "There used to be only one chair, but Potter and his little partner in crime tend to frequent detention together."

"I think I've heard more about James Potter in one day than I'd like," I admit, plopping myself into the closest seat with a tired sigh. McGonagall nods knowingly and hands me a schedule. Good; we can get right to the point and then I can go to bed.

"Well, then I don't think you'll care for too much for this discussion," She utters instead, looking up right when the door opens.

"You wanted to see me?" James's voice floats into the room, eliciting a groan from my tired brain. McGonagall gestures to the empty seat beside me and he nods curtly before sitting down.

"Wait," I interrupt, suddenly alert and concerned. "Ana-"

"Has already made friends and is perfectly okay," James reassures, all the while rolling his eyes. I glare hard at him and then turn back to McGonagall.

"Why, exactly, is he here?" I demand, a little annoyed that this boy who seems to hate my last name seems to appear everywhere I am.

"James will be your tutor for the past five years you have missed," McGonagall answers matter-of-factly, leaving no room to argue.

"Didn't she transfer from Ilvermorny?" James questions, confused. "I know she's American."

"Everyone and their dog knows I'm American at this point," I growl, annoyed and tired. "What's Ilvermorny?" I'm playing dumb, but they don't need to know that.

"It's the American form of Hogwarts," McGonagall answers, suddenly annoyed. I think it's the presence of James Potter, because lately, that's what it does to me too.

"Oh, no, I never went there." I turn to face James, shrugging as if it's no big deal. By the look on his face, it clearly is. "I went to normal people school."

"Wait," he argues, turning to McGonagall, "She's sixteen and doesn't know _any_ magic?" I wince at the tone in his voice and realize quickly he is not going to be very helpful. Might as well make a joke out of the whole situation then.

"Magic virgin right here," I laugh nervously, raising my hand for dramatic effect. Lowering it, I add, "Real life virgin too. Not that that matters."

"Can we maybe get back to the case in point?" McGonagall redirects, turning her concerned gaze on me. She blinks away my last comment and turns back to the matter at hand. "As I had previously stated, you and James will meet at some time every day, save Saturdays and Sundays. He also has the same class schedule as you this year and will make sure you attend them _regularly_." I can't tell if that last comment was directed to me or James, but by his scoff I don't think he likes it. Either way, she makes it very clear that _I_ will be at class. Gag me. "You best be scurrying off; Megara has yet to be sorted."

"And you don't even have a house!" James announces with a bothered laugh, obviously irked. Clearly not as enchanted with me as he seemed to be when we first met. "Well, then, we _do_ have to get going." He rises and calls me-like a dog. I huff, but push myself up from my chair and follow him.

"Can't they just like...assign me one and I can go to bed?" I beg, reaching up and winding my hair into a high ponytail.

"That's not how it works," James groans, leading me quickly past more winding hallways. "And wear your hair down; at least _look_ like you'll be a decent witch."

"Ouch," I comment openly. That wisecrack actually hurt. "How about _you_ tone down the _Gryffindor_ in you and be a decent human _being_?"

I wish I had my phone and texted that because there are so many emojis that would work here.

"Do _not_ insult my House," James threatens, coming to a stop and whipping around to stare at me. I don't feel threatened, so all I do is laugh and walk around him. I knew using his stupid House would get under his skin, even if I don't really know what it all means yet.

"Is it time for you to grace me with your absence?" I request as we come to a stop in front of a large set of double doors.

"Here we are, Snake Queen," he hisses in reply, throwing open the doors and revealing a large room with lots of students sitting at long rows of colored tables matching their robes. I'm still stuck on the fact that James called me a "Snake Queen". What is _that_?

Before I can ask him, James promptly walks away and joins the red table, sitting beside another attractive guy, a dirty blonde. They look like they're immediately laughing and joking, and my eyes find a crowd of children standing oddly in the middle. Ana quickly finds me within them and pulls me deep into the crowd.

That's when McGonagall enters from another door and begins to welcome us from the top of a little ledge in the front of the room. Behind her is a multitude of other adults, ranging from middle aged to just really old. One in particular, a light brunette with long curls much like mine, stares me down. It seems everyone has heard of the Missing Malfoy.

"First years," McGonagall calls in a proud, booming voice. "It is time for you to be sorted. We will proceed in alphabetical order." I guess we get no further explanation than whatever _that_ was.

She begins with a cute little blonde girl, who has a hat placed onto her head and seems to _speak_ to her. Eventually, he bellows out, "RAVENCLAW!" Students at the blue table cheer and whoop and welcome her with open arms. At first, I'm fascinated and terrified by the black hat, but then the process goes on and on until I think I may just fall asleep.

"Anastasia Malfoy," McGonagall calls out. Ana looks up at me nervously, and squeezes my hand before letting me go and making her way upstage. She sits apprehensively, and the black hat is placed onto her head, just like the first years before her. I glance over at the Slytherin table and see Elle, her head perked up in hope and interest. Her friend, Bree, must be at the yellow table, but Elle is still surrounded by other girls. She shushes them all and watches Ana intently. I turn to face my youngest sister again. The hat seems to talk to her for a little longer than usual, before loudly proclaiming, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ana beams and whoops in joy, just as James yells, "YES! That's my girl!" He even makes room for her to sit with him at the Gryffindor table and ruffles her hair like an older brother would. Ana looks over at me when she is seated and I encouragingly give her a thumbs-up and a grin. Elle pretends not to notice, and continues talking to her friends.

"Scorpius Malfoy," McGonagall calls out next, leaving me confused. In alphabetical order _I_ should be next; maybe they just screwed up. I turn my attention to the bleach blonde who is my cousin. The hat is barely on for five seconds when it declares, "SLYTHERIN!" The green table cheers as all the other ones roll their eyes and call out things like, "Predictable!" and "Snake King!" I glance at James, remembering his earlier nickname for myself. He isn't looking anywhere near me, instead engaged in a conversation with Ana. Poor Scorpius looks distressed and I can feel my anger bursting through my chest

When I turn my attention back to the Sorting, they're just calling Albus Potter up. The youngest Potter shyly makes his way to the stage and sits under the hat. The hat seems to have a struggle with him, as they frantically talk to each other back and forth for several minutes. Finally, the hat declares, "SLYTHERIN!"

The room goes _silent_. There are gasps and shocked looks all over the room, specifically on the Gryffindor side. James actually looks a little bit wounded, and he and his sister can't even look at Albus. Before my guilt can eat away at me, I start cheering and clapping, followed easily by Slytherin's table. Albus makes his way over with a smile on his face, and a spot is immediately cleared for him at the table as he sits down. Kids even begin to talk to him and he beams even brighter. I glance up at the professors, and the brunette professor staring at me earlier doesn't move, only stares shocked towards Albus.

The Sorting goes on until there are only two of us left. We finally get to the last first year, Rose Weasley, who is unsurprisingly called to Gryffindor. I am now the last student standing, and everyone is staring at me like I'm crazy. I can hear the whispers all around me, but I can't make out what they're saying. The brunette professor with the staring problem takes the stage and addresses the students.

"We have a unique situation regarding a sixth year female this year," She announces, brown eyes boring into my glaring gray ones. I pettily wave to everyone in the crowd who is already staring at me, and I swear James smirks in approval. "While I would love to enlighten you, it would be improper to do so. If any of you wish to know more, you can ask her yourself. She might even tell you," she adds with a wink, as if she already knows me. I feel uncomfortable and continue to glare at her.

"Megara Malfoy." There are whispers about the room and lots of kids talking to my sisters and even Scorpius. I ignore it all and sit in the chair, the hat being firmly placed on my head.

"Miss Malfoy," the hat hisses, a chuckle in its voice, "Better late than never."

"You _do_ talk," I mention, wondering why I'm surprised. "Well, I don't know where I want to be," I readily admit, staring at all the people intently watching me, "I don't understand what any of this means."

"Do you mean the Houses?" The hat asks, seemingly moving around atop my head.

"Those-and everything else," I respond, becoming a little more nervous. A _lot_ more nervous.

"Allow me to enlighten you," the hat chuckles, a hundred images flashing into my head. "Hufflepuff admires patience, hard work, and dedication. They strongly value fair play and kindness. They correspond strongly to the element of earth; this is clearly not your house." I scoff, insulted, but I know he's not necessarily wrong either. "Ravenclaw values intelligence, knowledge, and wit. Cold and aloof, they respond to the element of air. You are witty, Megara, but you only pretend to be cold. You do not belong in Ravenclaw." I look over at the kids at the blue table, looking like preps. I nod my head in agreement.

"That leaves Gryffindor or Slytherin," I comment, nervous, but also a little annoyed that of _course_ it would come down to these two houses.

"Ah, yes," the hat agrees, "Two different sides of the same coin, those houses. Which to choose for you? A sister in each. Gryffindor, the house of bravery, daring, nerve, chivalry. The element of fire-which you most definitely possess. Then, there is Slytherin; the house of ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. The emblem is a serpent, a tricky creature that knows how to get what it wants. Members of Slytherin typically break the mold. Water, the valued element." The hat pauses. "I think we both know where you truly belong, Megara."

I hold my breath and close my eyes, anticipating what was to come, but already feeling that I knew exactly what the hat was about to say.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The hat is lifted off of my head, and a bunch of older boys sitting with Slytherin jump up and cheer. Ana jumps up excitedly as well, beaming over at me. I look over to James, who is smirking at me and shaking his head to those around him-typical. I gulp and decide to turn my attention over to Elle, who is cheering louder than everyone else at the Slytherin table. Holding my head up high, I swivel my hair behind me and walk proudly to the table. An attractive, caramel skinned guy probably around my age, makes a seat for me and squeezes my shoulder.

"Welcome to the party, Malfoy," he winks at me, cozying up to me as I sit down, "Kellen Zabini; we're practically fated to be glued to each other's side due to our last names." He smiles at me and I just smile back and nod because I have no idea what he's talking about.

Chancing a gaze at James, I can see him glaring over at Kellen and me. As soon as he notices me, he turns around instantly, as if I had imagined the whole scenario.

Well, it's good to know Hogwarts is just like high school.


	4. Chapter Two

A/N As always, I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or Warner Bros., or Jk Rowling, or any of that fun stuff. Promise!

THE morning sun hits my eyelids just right and forces me awake the next morning. A quick check tells me all three of my dormmates are still asleep. We're all the same age, but the only one I can remember is Celia, the bleach blonde, pixie-cut, who apparently is dating Kellen's friend Oliver. She's the one who sleeps next to me, and has been the nicest thus far. The other two are both dark brunettes, but otherwise pretty unrememberable.

"Please tell me that isn't the sun," Celia groans after a few minutes, pulling the blanket over her eyes.

"It's the sun," I sigh, finally pulling myself out of bed. Today's the first day of classes, and I am 99.9% sure I am absolutely _not_ ready. At least little Ana's faring better than me; last night, she got roomed with Rose Weasley and they became fast friends. With her red hair and Ana's dark black, they looked like the Gryffindor colors themselves. She was having a blast with her from what I could see.

I head to the bathroom to ready myself, mostly because I know James will be coming this morning before classes to teach me magic basics. This, I am _not_ excited for. James already acts like he hates me and I can only imagine how stupid I'll look when he realizes I really don't have too much of an idea of what I'm doing.

I'd practiced magic before. My parents forbid me to attend Hogwarts like Elle, and my father didn't want me dabbling in magic at all. Therefore, I wasn't sent to Ilvermony either; they didn't want me using magic whatsoever. I stayed away from it; at least, I stayed away from it at first. Little by little, I broke into my dad's office and read his books. I read about spells. I practiced some. I succeeded in some places, and failed in a lot of others. I never stopped practicing, though. And I never told _anybody_.

I dress in some of my Slytherin attire-a sleek, grey shirt that was tight-fitting, along with the standard Hogwarts Slytherin-themed skirt, which was a mite too short. If I moved a certain way, the chances of everyone seeing my butt were better than my chances of passing any class this year. I'm extra careful as I leave my dorm and head up to the bathrooms. I survey the girls bathrooms, give a little sneer at the chill, and then get to work on my hair.

"Are you nervous?" One of the brunettes, the smaller one, asks from behind me. I jump, dropping my can of mousse on the bathroom ground with a loud clank. Smiling, she whips out her wand and casts a spell on my hair, smoothing it out and making my curls look flawless.

"Wow," I comment, reaching down to my waist to touch the bottoms of my hair. I wanted to make sure this was real, and not just some crazy mirage. "Teach me how to do that!" She laughed in response.

"It's easy," she insists, waving it off. "I'll tell you what; I'll teach you _this_ once Potter teaches you the most basic spell and you perform it for me." I pout, but she did have a point.

"That's fair," I grumble, twirling a strand around my finger in awe. Last night, I briefed my dormmates on my situation. I figure they'll be seeing the most of me and I really don't want to be answering any questions. "I would rather meet with anyone in this entire school than Potter," I admit bitterly, snarling to myself in the mirror.

"I would rather meet with Voldemort's dead body than Potter," my dormmate replies nonchalantly. I laugh and she comes over to straighten out my robe, just as someone calls, "MINDY! LET'S GO!" She smiles in apology and leaves me alone with my makeup and my thoughts.

 _Mindy_ , I remember, trying to enter her name into my brain. Eventually, I'm going to have to learn names and _try_ to care about this ridiculous school. With a forlorned sigh, I gather my stuff, just barely remembering to stuff my wand in my robe. I guess I should start thinking of it like the cell phone I had to leave behind. Hogwarts, apparently, is very middle ages.

Celia offers to show me to the library, James's proposed meeting place. I thank her and accept because, let's face it, I have no idea where I'm going. It takes a surprisingly short amount of time to get there and she leaves me to go to the dining hall. I push open the grand doors, and am greeted with a large room containing more books than I ever knew even existed. It's unusually quiet, even for a library. There are tables to the right side of the room, where a few Ravenclaws sit and read. From what I hear, this is typical of a Ravenclaw. I can't find James anywhere, though, so I sit at an empty table and fiddle with my hands. Immediately, one of the Ravenclaw girls comes over and sits across from me.

"Josephine Rachini," she introduces, holding out a hand. She has short, dark brown hair and beautiful skin that can only be described as a cocoa color. The Ravenclaw blue looks incredibly natural on her.

"Meg," I introduce only-no full name, and no last name. Just like I've always done it.

"In that case, you may call me Jo," she smiles, looking me over. "Congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin."

"I'm not sure if that's sarcastic or not," I confess suspiciously, trying to feel her out. She remains cold and aloof, showing no emotion whatsoever.

"It isn't," Jo insists, and for some reason, I believe her. "Slytherin's are cunning and ambitious. Sometimes deceitful-but only as a means to get to their ends."

"Right," I skeptically agree, questioning her decision to share that information with me. "So you want my story? That's kind of what everyone wants." She shrugs and leans forward, too close, and I lean farther back into my seat.

"I would be lying if I wasn't curious," Jo confesses, shrugging like that's just normal, "but no. Not yet. I imagine you'll tell me when we're better friends."

"Friends?" I half laugh, half question. "What makes you think we'll be friends?"

"We're very similar, you and I," Jo elaborates, coming around the table and sitting next to me. I have half a mind to scoot my chair away but don't for fear of being too rude. "Anyway; you probably have much to do, but I'm sure I'll see you later." She gets up abruptly and leaves, leaving _me_ reeling and confused by my first real encounter since I've been here. I shake it off and turn my head back towards the door, where James Potter finally comes sauntering in. He takes the seat across from me and rubs his eyes. He looks like he didn't get a lick of sleep last night.

"You're late," I criticize, looking him up and down. He glares at me but doesn't say anything else as he draws his wand and a feather, laying them both on the table. "Okay, no offense, but this image _kind of_ makes me want to laugh. I feel like I'm in a comedy." I'm trying to lighten the mood, but James isn't taking the bait.

"Where's your wand?" James disregards my attempt in a clipped tone. I snort in response, annoyed, but whip out my wand and lay it out on the table. Almost immediately, James's expression changes and he snatches my wand off of the table, lifting it up to his face. He studies this in awe, twirling it around his perfectly tanned fingers. "Do you realize this is Hermione Granger's wand?" He asks, shocked. _I_ was shocked that he was actually looking me in the eye.

"So I've been told," I say purposefully dully, making it known that I didn't care to have this conversation. "Can we get on with this? I'm literally starving." Still studying my wand, James reaches into his robe and tosses me a banana. I look at him questioningly, but he still isn't looking at me so I shrug and begin to peel the banana. Finally, James sets the wand down in front of me and purses his lips, deep in thought, whilst staring at me. I take a bite of my banana and glare at him. "You really shouldn't watch a girl like that as she sticks a banana in her mouth," I say, "it's not a makeshift penis." James immediately turns bright red and lowers his head with wide eyes.

"That is _not_ why I was watching you!" He whispers angrily, hiding his face in his robe now. I bite my lip with a smile in triumph; I've caught him off guard and lightened the mood.

"But you admit you _were_ watching me," I tease, taking another bite of my banana. Still blushing, he glares at me and picks up his wand.

"Can we get to work yet?" He growls, still glaring at me. I shrug and set my banana to the side, a little giddy that I got the best of him. He makes a point to stare at my wand so I pick it up, trying to hold it the way he was holding it. Instantly, I feel this rush of magic flow through me, and I forget ever being afraid. "We're going to start with the most basic charm there is: _Wingardium Leviosa_."

"Sounds...fancy," I admit, staring doubtingly at my wand. I didn't know if this was one of the spells I'd casted before in secret, because I didn't know the names of any of them. "I'm not sure I can do this," I sputter, and then mentally beat myself up for even saying it. I shouldn't be so quick to admit my weaknesses; he can use them against me. And he probably will.

Instead of insulting me like I expect him to, I see his eyes soften, and his hand comes over mine. He tightens my fingers over the wand. "You can," he encourages, green Potter eyes boring into my grey ones, before hurriedly returning to his own wand as if the moment never happened. "Wingardium Leviosa is a simple levitation charm; you are going to levitate this feather." I grimace; somehow, I was doubtful that levitating something would be _simple_.

"Okay," I accept doubtingly, staring numbly at the feather on James's side of the table. "I feel like that's going to be hard."

"It took me quite a bit to get it down when I was a first year," James sheepishly admits, making me even _more_ nervous. "It's like this: _Wingardium, Leviosa_." He swishes his wand perfectly to the rhythm of his words, entrancing me; and then the next thing I know, the feather is floating in the air between us. I stare in wonder, instinctively reaching out to touch it. Before my fingers make contact, the feather falls back to the table far too quickly, defying physics as I know it.

"Hey!" I protest, turning a sharp gaze onto James. His eyes are sparkling back in amusement and he lets himself laugh for a second before gesturing back to the feather.

"You try," he insists, practically begging for me to outdo him with his eyes. I swallow nervously, knowing that was an expectation I very well couldn't fulfill, and aim my wand at the feather.

"Um, alright," I agree, awkwardly swishing my wand as I say, "Wingardium...Leviosa?" Absolutely nothing happens, which if I'm honest, is exactly _what_ I expected to happen. I don't expect him to say anything, so I scrunch my nose in embarrassment and lay my wand down on the table with a shrug.

"Well, we tried!" I attempt to joke, pushing down the humiliation igniting in my stomach. James shakes his head in disagreement and pushes his chair back, and I watch cautiously as he hurriedly comes up behind my own chair.

"You're too nervous," he perceives, "It's making you perform utterly terribly!" I squeak out a protest and James reaches out for my hand and I let him take it, noticing how warm he is. Or, maybe I'm just incredibly cold in comparison. He pulls me out of my chair quickly and kicks it back into the table in a swift move. " _Don't_ question the spell. Be sure of it. You're commanding your wand; it is an _extension_ of _you_ ," James expounds, putting his arm around me and taking my other hand. He places my wand into our entwined hands and then swishes it for me,helping me get a feel for the motion of the spell. "Try again," he encourages, releasing me and standing back to give me some space.

I try again halfheartedly, and this time, the feather sputters up and then falls straight back down to the table. I groan and shrug back at James defeatedly. He sighs, but I get the impression that he isn't ready to give up on me just yet. He approaches from behind and leans in close to my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I pray he didn't notice the effect of his proximity on my body.

"Casting spells is far more than just moving a wand and saying funny words," he whispers, a hand on my arm, "You need to really _feel_ the magic. Try again." He backs off once more and I grip my wand a little tighter and close my eyes, striving with more might than before to remember what it _felt_ like when I held my wand for the first time.

Opening my eyes again, I grasp onto the feeling with my entire concentration, focus solely on the feather, and barely utter, " _Wingardium Leviosa_." After what seems like a lifetime, I feel the familiar buzz of magic. I watch as the feather flutters in the air and _stays_.

"Holyshit," I breathe out, watching it float in front of me, "James!" I'm shrieking again but I can't bring myself to care in my awe.

"Shh," he hurries to my side, leaning over my shoulder. "Move your wand. Move the feather." I do as he says, and soon the feather is flying all over us and around us before I eventually settle it onto the table. I can't stop the toothy grin spreading across my flushed face. James lets out a contented breath and begins cheering and whooping, spinning me around by both hands. We instantly get shushed by a librarian but he continues laughing quietly. I feel my nose scrunch in my own amusement. "That was brilliant, Meg!" He whispers, still holding onto me. I catch my breath and quickly, but kindly, remove myself from his grip. I needed to _try_ and keep a level head today.

"I don't know if I'll ever do that again," I admit, shaking my head in exasperation. James shakes _his_ head in disagreement.

"Once you do it, you won't forget it," he insists, snatching my banana off of the table finishing it off. I squeal pathetically in disagreement, only to be quieted once more by our librarian antagonist. James winks and moseys on over to the door, calling back, "You're going to be late for class if you keep standing there like a statue!" I hastily gather my things and rush to catch up to him.

He's already quite a bit ahead of me, and has already caught up to his friends; there's no way I'm going to walk with him now. It's one thing to hang out with James while he's tutoring me, but a whole other thing to try and buddy up to the other Gryffindors. I follow closely behind, though, so at least I know where class _is_.

They turn a sharp corner, and I'm quick to follow, rushing into the room behind them. They all take a table together; there isn't anybody else I recognize in this class, and there aren't any empty tables. I'm going to have to suck it up and find someone to sit with.

"Meg!" A semi-deep voice calls. My head snaps sharply to the right, and I see Kellen anxiously waving me over. Oliver sits in the seat next to him, falling asleep. How did I miss them? Boys like them _always_ let girls sit with them. Kellen pats the open seat near the aisle and I hurry over anxiously, sliding in as soon as I can. At least I won't be completely alone today.

"It's way too freaking early to be in class," I groan by way of a greeting, and Kellen gives me an incredibly amused look. "What?"

"The way you talk is funny," he shrugs, pulling out a book and pretending to study it. I gasp and pretend to be offended; he _is_ hot, and last time I checked, he was single. So flirting was really fair game.

"The way I talk is normal," I argue, rolling my eyes playfully, "The way _you_ talk is funny." He laughs and then nudges Oliver awake, not a second before a professor walks through the door. Everyone instantly quiets down when he begins to speak, so I follow suit. I don't catch his name, so I figure I'll just have to ask James later.

Speaking of James, he's sandwiched between his best friend-I learned his name last night; Gabe, possibly- and some pretty blonde girl who seems pretty cozy with James. I frown; he never mentioned a girlfriend. I start to burn a little with jealousy, even though I'm positive he doesn't have a girlfriend.

Then again, Elle and Bree _did_ tell me he was quite the player. I turn around again to face the professor, trying desperately to grasp onto anything he says. Everything he says terrifies me and I have trouble understanding ant of it. I groan and I can feel Kellen's shoulders move as he chuckles beside me. I hear the scrawl of his handwriting and he passes me the note. Luckily, I'm an expert at note passing. I glance down to my right and read, NOT SO SCARY-EASIEST CLASS. JUST READ CHAPTERS 1-4 AND YOU'LL CATCH ON. I look up from his note and mouth, "Thanks!" He winks back at me and then turns his attention back to the professor. I bite my lip with a smile as I turn to the first chapter to try and figure out what's happening here.

A little scuffle to my left turns my attention away from Thestrals and over to James's table. He has ink all over him and angrily begins dabbing at it with a handkerchief. The little blonde to his left grasps onto his arm and practically climbs on top of him to try to help, but James brushes her off. That really seems to piss her off and she makes doe eyes at him, to no avail. He finally looks up, just for a second, and meets my eyes. I cock my head in confusion, but he just glares horribly my way before throwing his handkerchief onto the table.

Kellen chuckles lowly next to me and I look back towards him. He's taking notes furiously, shaking his head in amusement. I nudge him with my elbow and when he meets my eyes, I send him my best questioning glance. He grins and rolls his eyes.

"If you give me any more attention, I'm afraid Potter will spill more than ink everywhere to try and get it back," he explains cryptically. He turns away from me again and I feel even more puzzled. If I didn't know any better, I would say Kellen was implying that James was jealous; but clearly, he isn't. He has his little blonde to help him with all of his _spills_.

The class finally ends, and I swish out my schedule to see what's next. All it says is "elective" and it doesn't have an assigned room, time, or anything. I purse my lips and look around to see if James is here, but he's long gone. So much for making sure I attend class, Potter. First, the scene with the ink and now he's just going to leave me here? Classy.

I decide to just walk down the hall, see if anybody will tell me where to go, but soon the halls are mostly deserted with kids back in class. I frown and lean against a pillar, watching the sun beam and move around outside. It isn't too long before somebody taps me on the shoulder. Whipping around, I come face-to-face with the brunette professor with the staring problem. I try to smile kindly but seeing as she keeps staring at me, I glare at her.

"Is there somewhere I need to be?" I ask rudely, seriously annoyed. If I had been having a decent day, I might have been nicer. This whole _James_ thing was getting me all out of sorts; something I should be trying hard not to be.

"This is usually elective time for students," she answers matter-of-factly, "You should be in dueling, or Frog Choir-"

" _Frog_ Choir?" I bluster, officially creeped out, "You're kidding." She chooses not to answer me, just smiles awkwardly.

"Do you know me?" She finally asks, her brown eyes searching my own. Taken aback, I nervously laugh.

"Um, no," I reply rudely, trying to avoid her gaze. "Though you obviously know me." I feel the need to leave the situation; I hadn't felt this uncomfortable for a while. She _was_ oddly familiar. In a way, of course, that made me feel threatened. She purses her lips in thought, looking a little disappointed.

Finally, she says, "You _really_ have no clue who I am?"

"You'd think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you," I comeback, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow. Something changes in her demeanor; she's masking some emotion that I can't make out and smiles instead.

"Well, then allow me to introduce myself!" She cheers brightly- _way_ too brightly. Almost like it's fake. "Hermione Granger, at your service." Regret encompasses me as I recall the way I've just been speaking to _Hermione Granger_.

"You're _Hermione_?" I question further, incredulous.

Her face scrunches in confusion and she makes a little awkward choking noise before sputtering, "Yes-I believe so."

"Can I see your wand?" The words come out of my mouth before I even realize what I'm saying. Embarrassed, I say, "No, no, you don't have to-"

"It's perfectly okay!" She asserts, pulling out her wand delicately. I gasp at how identical it truly is to mine, and pull mine out also. That's when Hermione gasps involuntarily, eyeing our two wands together. "You have my wand," she utters, looking at me in awe.

"So people tell me," I laugh hesitantly, pushing my wand back into the folds of my robe awkwardly. The way she's looking at me is making me really uncomfortable, so I decide to change the subject. "So-is there any elective I can do that isn't Frog Choir?" I request, disgust lingering on my tongue.

Hermione laughs. "What do you like to do? What are your talents, darling?" I wince at the nickname, but decide I should probably let it go since she _is_ one of my professors and I was already pretty rude to her.

"I was on a nationally ranked dance team back home," I divulge, shrugging like it was nothing. But it was something; we were actually fairly decent. My old friend and I were co-captains, and we've both won many, many awards. We might've taken any team in the world-and then my mom made me come here. I guess I'll never know what I could have done. "I like dancing." Hermione beams at me.

"I can make a private practice your elective," Hermione offers, gesturing for me to follow her, "But I'll have to supervise it, of course." She begins to walk and I skip to catch up to her.

"Really?" I ask, way too eager for my own good. She giggles lightly and nods. I have a feeling she doesn't have very many gal pals and I wonder if she might be trying to find one in me.

"Yes really; it'd be a shame if you lost that skill due to being out of practice." I beam so brightly, I probably could put the sun to shame right now. Hermione leads me past room after room until finally, she opens up two huge doors, leading into a giant ballroom. I gasp and squeal in excitement, taking in every inch of it.

"This will work?" Hermione asks me. I nod eagerly. "Well then, tomorrow it is; same time." She promptly leaves the room, but I stay for a few lingering moments, remembering life before I came here, really letting myself miss it now that I'm actually gone. I let the feeling go and put up my walls. I don't want to feel the sadness. I want the sadness to go the hell away; forever, preferably.

My last class today is potions, and I have no idea what to expect at this point. I was completely lost in Defense, and Potter never briefed me on potions either. Chances are, I'm just going to crash and burn once again.

I manage to find my way to Potions a few minutes late, but luckily McGonagall is teaching it. She only gives me a kind smile before turning an icy glare on Potter for abandoning me. He rolls his eyes and goes back to toiling with some pen and paper. Luckily for me, Jo is sitting in the front row, alone. She's the one that wants to be friends; she might as well do my homework for me.

"Megara," she greets, not even looking up from her notes.

"Meg," I sigh, discontented. She smiles at her notes, but I think it's meant for me. "What's this class for?"

"Potions."

I roll my eyes and decide to just wait and listen. McGonagall continues not too long afterwards, saying something that makes the class laugh but that I don't understand. I smile and nod, realizing much too late that I look like quite the idiot.

"The ladies in this classroom will be delighted to hear that the potion we will be working on first, is amortentia," McGonagall announces. This incites a series of squeals from the girls-aside from Jo, still staring at her notes, who just sighs-and a lot of groaning from the guys. I raise a questioning eye at Jo, forcing her to look up at me.

"What the hell is amortentia and why is there such a stereotypical female versus male response?" I ask, kind of afraid of the answer.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world," Jo explains, rolling her eyes. "Illegal to use, yet still taught at Hogwarts. Of course, it doesn't bring real love-it can only imitate. Nothing can create real love."

"Um, agreed-"

"I'm not done," Jo groans, and I promptly shut my mouth. "It has a different scent for everyone who smells it, reminding each person of the things they find attractive- _even_ if the person doesn't acknowledge or is unaware of their love for the object, or _person_ , themselves."

"That is quite interesting," I confess, looking fascinatingly at the picture of amortentia in Jo's book. "I wonder what I might smell." Jo analyzes me and then shrugs.

"Who knows?" She gives up. "We'll find out this year; all of the sixth years do. Last year, Brax Ford smelled Eliza Sawyer's scent, and now they shag every five minutes."

"Ew!" I exclaim, my infatuation with amortentia officially gone.

"You're telling me; Elizabeth is my roommate," Jo shudders, turning her full attention to me this time. I can't help but laugh, earning me a demanding shush from McGonagall. Jo winks at me, and we begin to learn everything in the next hour that Jo just told me in two minutes.

I spent the rest of the day studying with Jo and checking in on my sisters. Both of them were already excelling in their classes, naturally. I learned that I couldn't catch Elle alone because her and Bree are attached at the freaking hip. I also learned that Ana loves Gryffindor, and her new best friend is Rose Weasley-who, apparently, is Hermione's daughter. I should have known that; she married Ron, the missing third of the Golden Trio.

I was just returning to my dorm when everyone started heading down to dinner. I tell my dormmates I'll be right there and return to the room, in desperate need of a five minute nap. I swear; just _five_ minutes.

"What a freaking day," I moan, stretching out my legs and feeling all my brittle dancer's bones _pop-pop-pop_. Satisfied, I lay back on the bed, and my head hits something cold and hard. Instantly, I shoot up and atop my pillow is an old iPhone, with a blue sticky note on it. All it says is my name, so I rip it off and examine the iPhone. It doesn't have any service, like Mom said I wouldn't have out here. I just have to wonder why someone would randomly send me a phone. And _who_ would randomly send me a phone. It's plain and boring, and there isn't anything on there to find. I set it beside me, unworried, and close my eyes to go to sleep when it rings.

I shoot up and raise the phone to my face; a call from Unknown? What on earth? It still says no service in the corner, but reluctantly, I answer it.

"Hey Meg-miss me?" A scraggly voice laughs into the phone. It isn't anyone I recognize; still, they obviously know me.

"I can't miss you if I don't know you," I answer suspiciously. "Who is this?"

"You don't know who I am-but I know ALL about you!" The rough voice laughs again, leaving me annoyed.

"Very funny; is this some magic prank shit?" I interrogate, seriously pissed off.

"Something like that," The Voice answers. I can tell he's toying with me on the other end. "I just thought I'd call and warn you, Meg." I begin to feel a little nervous, but quickly ride it off as a dumb prank. Kids wanting to mess with the untalented, unknowledgeable new girl.

"Warn me?" I reply, willing myself to sound amused. "About what?"

"Your name is going to be said somewhere it shouldn't be tomorrow," The Voice informs. "If I were you, I would be smart and do what the cup says, even if it means defying your teachers. After all, you don't want someone to get hurt."

"What the _hell_ are you-"

"Goodnight, Meg!" The receiver goes blank, leaving me with an empty phone screen. Shaking it off as some stupid, first-year prank, I hide the phone in the pocket of my robe and decide I'm not that tired after all.


End file.
